Thru the Eyes of Voldemort
by SimplyOverthinking
Summary: We all know what happened at the final epic battle between The Dark Lord and The Boy Who Lived. But what was running through Tom Riddle's mind in that dramatic conclusion?


**DISCLAIMER: Basically this whole entire scene- setting, dialogue, characters, even plot- all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

_Voldemort's_ _Point of View_

And so they stood, mere _feet _from each other, his wand ensnared snugly in the grip of his pale fingers.

With a mere flick of the wrist, the simple utterance of two words, the Boy who Lived would fall, would crumple just like his parents, eyes unseeing and-

"I don't want anyone else to try to help," the boy said, so _arrogant, _so… _pathetically bold. _"It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

_Ridiculous. Who's going to die for the utterly useless cause of buying you time today, Potter? McGonagall? _ _Or your worshipping shadow Weasley?_

"Potter doesn't mean that," The Dark Lord scoffed, his hand gripping the wand with the delicacy of glass. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," the boy said, "There are no more Horcruxes-"

_So Dumbledore's little puppet found them after all, did he? _But the surprise, the weak moment of being caught off guard, was dispelled with a small snarl as his eyes drilled into the boy.

"It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"

His hand twitched, the white tide of rage and vengeance giving way slightly as the boy sputtered out his _gallant _and _heroic _speech.

"One of us?" he sneered, ridicule harboring smugly in his voice, "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

So smug the boy was, that he had only lived, had only been gifted with the possession of life because he had hidden, as a _coward, _behind greater wizards, cowering beneath each as Lord Voldemort struck them down, with a mere jabbing of the wand.

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" The boy retorted, "Accident, when I decided to fight in the graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"_Accidents!" _he said, rage etching itself into his tone, "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," the boy said, as if it were a fact, not as if it was a mere and incredulous wish that the fool Potter _hoped, _hoped would come true. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people-"

"But you did not!" What was he doing, trying to sound more heroic, like he was actually a _hero, _like he was actually the "brave and selfless " do-gooder that he pretended to be?

"I meant to-"

_Purely pathetic._

"And that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed that the spells you put on them aren't binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"

"_You dare-" _Did this disappointingly _miserable _excuse for an enemy think that he, a "hero" living off of a heavy reliance on luck and the sacrifices of others, was _worthy _of saying his name?

"Yes I dare," said the boy, "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

His wand was held aloft at his side, unmoving, for the unbidden thought that this boy _could _have obtained knowledge that he, Lord Voldemort knew not…

"Is it _love _again?" he jeered, the _amazing _"secret weapon" of Dumbledore's? Where was _love _when his own employee, his "trusted" man, _killed him, _and his puppet Harry Potter was mere moments away from destruction, just as Dumbledore himself had experienced?

"Dumbledore's favorite solution, _love, _which he claimed conquered death, though where was _love _when he fell through the tower and broke like waxwork? _Love, _which did not prevent me from stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter- and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

"Just one thing," and the arrogance coating his words like a thick layer of grime irked the Dark Lord, causing his arm to twitch once more, his lips to purse, longing to speak the words that would end the boy's worthless existence.

"If it is not _love _that will save you this time," he said, a taunting edge to his words, "You must believe you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?" An occurrence that was _impossible _by _all_ standards, surely…

"I believe both," the boy replied smoothly. For a second a jolt of bewilderment zapped thru Voldemort, but he extinguished it with a vengeful ferocity.

_A transparent bluff… how much of a fool does he think I am, the dimwitted boy?_

"You think _you _know more magic than I do?" he said, laughing maliciously. "Than _I, _than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it," said the boy, "but he knew more than you, knew enough to not to do what you've done."

"You mean he was weak,"

_I am immortal._

"To weak to dare,"

_I am your Lord._

"To weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"

_I am your God._

"No, he was cleverer than you," and for a moment Voldemort envied the cool demeanor he maintained, "A better wizard, a better man."  
_A weakling, to cowardly, to __**unworthy **__to even attempt to reach my power!_

"I brought the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

_Killed the last person you could cling to, the last person who actually stood the miniscule chance of defeating me!_

"You thought you did," the boy said, "but you were wrong."

_What is this?_

"_Dumbledore is dead!"_

_You can't lean on him anymore, he can't be your little shield __**anymore, **__Potter._

"His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"

Rage seeped through his veins, co-existing contently in his blood.

"Yes, Dumbledore's dead," the boy said flatly, and Voldemort felt a small flicker of triumph, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own matter of dying, chose it months before he died, with the man you thought was your servant."

"What childish dream is this?" The Dark Lord said. The boy was deluding himself, so desperate to linger on his false hope that his teacher was _alive_, that-

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," the boy said, and Voldemort sneered.

_You wish, Potter, you unregistering fool._

"Snape was Dumbledore's , Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

A sickening, warm sense of curiosity was starting to root within Voldemort, but he said nothing.

"Snape's Patronus was a doe," the boy rambled on, so _sure. _"the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized,"

_That he was a weak, lovesick fool?_

"He asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

Potter was desperate.

"He desired her, that was all," Voldemort retorted, gunning down his illusion with glee, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him-"

"Of course he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

"It matters not!" The Dark Lord screamed. _It didn't stop me from taking his wand, didn't stop me from killing him _and _Snape! _"It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great _love! _Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, in ways that you do not understand!

"Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand form me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy- I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

_Now you will fall, just like all the other pathetic halfwits that have stood in my way!_

"Yeah it did," said Harry, and victory sprouted through Voldemort, "You're right. But before you kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done… Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"

"What is this?" His wand slipped, almost falling out of his grasp, caught off guard. What nonsense was this?

"It's your one last chance," said Harry, and Voldemort's teeth gritted together, "it's all you've got left… I've seen what you'll be otherwise… be a man… try… try for some remorse…"

"You dare-" _the undeserving "hero"?_

"Yes, I dare," said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle."

Voldemort's hand shook slightly, rife with anger, rage and- curiosity.

"The wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the elder wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed-" the uproar of vehemence was threatening to overpower him, and-

"Aren't you listening?" The boy said, almost _exasperated, _and Voldemort felt his face clench. "_Snape never beat Dumbledore! _Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, as the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned , the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice was injected merrily with sinister jubilance. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? _The wand chooses the wizard… _The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who had never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him it's allegiance…"

Voldemort's muscles tensed, seething with rage, his anger channeling to his wand…

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

It was as if Harry had thrown a grenade at Voldemort, his mental physique was stumbling-

He composed himself. The situation was still under his control.

"But what does it matter?" Voldemort said- almost gently. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…"

"But your too late," Harry said, and Voldemort's wand felt heavy in his vice-like grip. "You've missed your chance. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."

The boy brandished the wand, and Voldemort felt his resolve, his restraint, explode away.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" the boy whispered tersely. "Does the wand in your hand know that its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does… I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

_Impossible._

The anger and fury poured through him, and he pointed his wand, channeling his hate, his dismay, _everything-_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

A bang resounded through the room, golden flames licked the air where the spells collided, and then-

There was green-

"_It's your one last chance…"_

_He saw the boy, green eyes glinting with malice… or… bravery?_

The white light-

"_It's all you've got left…"_

The pain, it- it _burned-_

"_Be a man…"_

The white light- everywhere, it _h-hurt-_

"_Try for some remorse…"_

He was floating, flying away…

_Be a man…_

"I regret," he whispered as he drifted into oblivion.

**Jeez, that took **_**way **_**longer to write than I expected. I almost thought about making it into two chapters. I know. **_**Two chapters.**_

**Thanks for reading; it would be awesome if you left a review!**

**-Don't overthink it.**


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